Terrible, PissDrunk Flukes of Nature
by vodka straight
Summary: The dialog leading up to and proceeding Lindsey and Brian getting it on that one time in college.


**Terrible, Piss-Drunk Flukes of Nature**

**_Lindsey and Brian get it on. Set when they were in college together._**

"I'm saying… maybe people just love people, Brian, maybe it's got more to do with perception and personality than it does actual sexual preference. Maybe we're just brought up in a way that indicates we sleep with one gender or the other. Maybe it really doesn't matter, when you really... get down to it."

"That's bull shit."

"That's what you say about everything."

"It's easy for you to say that being gay doesn't matter because you're a dyke."

"How can you get that? I'm not saying that being gay doesn't matter--"

"No, wait… it's easy for you to say because you're a girl. A woman. Because by some terrible, piss-drunk fluke of Nature, you got your dicks shoved up into your pelvises.Girls gettheir genitals all tangled up withtheir other organs, your muscles and your brain and your fucking fingernails. It's got nothing to do with love. Never has. When a guy sees a half-naked man standing in front of him and his dick stands up, he's a fag. Unless he's a thirteen year-old hormone case, he's a flaming fairy. Girls just aren't fortunate enough to have such an accurate and undeniable barometer."

"Well, then maybe… maybe it's all a matter of degrees. Maybe some people are more gay than others. Maybe some people are more straight than others. But everybody feels both, maybe. Somehow."

"Not me."

"Really?"

"Really."

"You're one hundred percent gay, you've never felt anything else."

"Correct."

"Take… wait, think of… Tommy Mennt."

"I can't imagine a reason why I would ever think of Tommy Mennt."

"Don't be an asshole; if you were standing side by side, next to Tommy Mennt, and I were to ask a random individual to tell me who was gayer, they'd pick Tommy every time."

"That's because Tommy wears mauve-colored lycra to school."

"And because that's what people believe gay is."

"Okay, so what? I can believe that the way you dress or act is a fickle facet of personality. Not who you fuck. You think Tommy will still be wearing spandex when he's sixty-five? You think he'll still be fucking men?"

"What I mean is, if what everyone else thinks is gay is subjective… how can you possibly be sure, is what I mean."

"I've been sure since I was thirteen. Even when I _was_ a hormone case. The reason you think that's odd is because you've been too scared of what it means your whole life."

"I'm not scared of what it means."

"You are. That's why you date girls like Mariah. Girls who wear long hair and do their makeup and laugh too loudly when guys are around. You date girls like you."

"I dated Mariah because I thought she was attractive."

"Come on, Lindsey, you don't even know what you think attractive is. That's why we're having this conversation."

"Oh, how can you pretend to know."

"Because you spend so much of your time making absolutely sure that I know. You talk too much, Lindsey. I mean I know you're new to the deal, but you talk too much. You're too loud for people to believe you totally."

"I don't fake it, Brian. I'm not new to being gay."

"Oh, now we're back to the old conventions."

"Brian."

"Do you think I'm attractive?"

"Is it time for your 1am ego boost already?"

"Do you?"

"Everyone thinks you're attractive."

"Do you think I'm attractive?"

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes, I do. I find you attractive."

"Then fuck me."

"What?"

"Fuck me, Lindsey. I don't mind. I've got nothing going on."

"Get away from me, Brian."

"Seriously. You think everybody's got a little bit of straight in them, show me. Show me what I'm missing."

"You're making fun of me."

"I'm not. I'm really not."

"Labels are okay. Being one thing and not another is okay."

"Brian."

"When you look at me and think, 'Wow, I'd maybe really like to have that,' you're not thinking straight."

"Excuse the pun."

"You're thinking that you'd like to have something that looks like me, because I'm attractive, like you said. Everybody thinks so. Being gay doesn't make you blind. You want to look like everyone tells you you're supposed to look, with a boy, like a girl, with long hair and make-up and stupid giggling that makes straight guys want to be sick. That's why they never wanted you, Lindsey. Not because you're ugly, or stupid, or masculine, or uninteresting. Because even then, even in high school, they could tell. They couldn't quite put their fingers on it, but they had some sneaking, itching feeling that that Peterson girl was bad news."

"Girls liked you in high school."

"I was out."

"Forbidden fruit, as it were."

"Excuse the pun. Stop feeling like you're missing out."

"So you really thought it was that bad?"

"No."

"It was okay."

"It was okay. And I'll bet you're feeling proud of yourself right now. I bet you want to go tell Mariah."

"Of course I don't."

"You do. Because that's all straight sex is to you. Bragging rights. You want to be able to use the words and sound like everybody else."

"I'm fucking sick of you telling me what I am, Brian."

"I'm only stepping in because you're failing dismally."

"Well don't bother yourself. All you've got is a fuck-load of theory, probably a little bit from what you wonder about yourself, no matter how self-assured you are."

"Okay."

"Suck my dick, Brian."

"Oh, did I hurt your feelings?"

"How can you pretend that you're not making fun of me? You're always making fun of me."

"Just then I was. Not before."

"You never say anything real, Brian. You're just _all_ theory."

"Hey, as long as I'm right."

"Fuck you. You're always right."


End file.
